Drawing on the idea of darkness, both metaphorical and literal, Finnish designer Rolf Ekroth crafted a lineup of sportswear-inspired looks — from track pants to trusty bomber jackets. Step inside the show, aptly titled “No Distance Left to Run.”

Rolf Ekroth Goes the Distance at Copenhagen Fashion Week AW25

Drawing on the idea of darkness, both metaphorical and literal, Finnish designer Rolf Ekroth crafted a lineup of sportswear-inspired looks — from track pants to trusty bomber jackets. Step inside the show, aptly titled “No Distance Left to Run.”
February 07, 2025
article by Mari Alexander/

photography by James Cochrane

It’s a little over an hour after sunset, and a new, fiercely cold chill is beginning to settle in the air.

Hundreds of people have thronged the space outside of an old warehouse — a former shipyard factory converted into a venue that plays host to a number of concerts, raves, parties, and festivals on the (very hip) island of Refshaleøen. The guests who form the long line leading through the black metal doors could be waiting for a rock concert, ready to party until the sun comes back up. The euphoric chatter wafting from the hall and the riotous neon colors illuminating overhead hint at the same thing. Yet this crowd has gathered not for a concert but for a fashion show — Finnish designer Rolf Ekroth’s fall-winter 2025 collection during Copenhagen Fashion Week. 

As we slowly funnel through the door, an even bigger crowd reveals itself inside the cavernous space. While I wait for my face and fingers to thaw, I crane my neck, eagerly looking around — people, people everywhere! The anticipation leading up to the show is almost electric. When the lights disappear, the audience, like adoring fans, erupt into applause. It’s now dark; the ceiling above resembles a night’s sky, filled with lights like glittering stars. I sit up straight in my seat as the first trilling notes of music catches my ear — a mix of piano and spacey synth that introduces a slightly unsettling, introspective mood before the opening model walks out. 

He’s clad in head-to-toe mulled-wine burgundy: a puffed coat with coordinating pants and a half-zip windbreaker. The color is breathtaking in its boldness, especially in the golden glare of the flashlight that tails the model as he slowly makes his way around the runway. He walks through the night, walks with seemingly no place to go, walks in his own pitch-darkness. 

On the leftRemovable scarf details give the wearer versatility and ease. In fact, Rolf designed the collection with saleability in mind.

Darkness, or rather, overcoming it, is a central theme in this season’s collection — a departure from Rolf’s previous showings, which were steeped in nostalgia with references plucked from the designer’s own life in Finland. It was almost too syrupy (in Rolf’s opinion, not mine), and this season, he wanted to meditate on something that felt more realistic to his current state. “I think I’ve never been more close to having to shut down the brand,” He tells me in an earnest voice. The financial demands of running an independent fashion brand and planning a runway show are hard to keep up with, to say the least. “This fall, it seemed almost like an impossible task,” he continues.

Two sponsors came to the rescue — Puma and Eleven Australia — and somehow, through grit and sheer determination, it came together. “I thought about, ‘What are my ways to get through those dark times?’” Rolf says. “And for me, it usually was exercise and running, which I can’t do right now because I have, like, a million [issues] with my legs, but that sort of gave me a sense of hope.” 

For Rolf, the collection was an opportunity to explore new design turf outside of his oft-praised outerwear. Using track pants as his main inspiration, he took a deep dive into the silhouette, creating as many iterations of the sportswear staple as he could. We see diverse offerings in a variety of different fabrics and cuts. Some are contrasted with patchworked checked patterns running along the sides; others are softened with shearling side piping. Padded nylon segues into light-weight fabrics which then segues into corduroy. Thoughtful details like buttons down the legs, drawstring cords, and functional pockets bring an interesting twist. 

Elsewhere, nods to sports abound. We see several pieces of outerwear with matching hydration packs. (This was a small callback to last season, when the designer imagined life jackets in floral prints). We see hoodies and detachable zig-zagged details (on coats and denim pants) inspired by the frayed edges of the designer’s own worn-out track pants. We see running shorts layered over tights, rendered in a sunny new print. “In the Nordics, during the winter time, we become involuntary sun worshippers,” he tells me. “In Finland, I’ve lived through months even without seeing the sun. So when the sun comes out, we’re like, ‘Yes, this is the best day ever.’”

On the right“I love this sort of child-like brushstrokes,” Rolf says. “It’s very fun.”

The sun, then, is used as a motif throughout in solar-shaped pins on an oversized sweater and sunray-shaped crowns on caps, which you can remove, if you’d like, when you’re not feeling particularly chipper. A standout here are the prints, dreamed up by Rolf’s girlfriend Matilda and her sister Emanuela. (Matilda has a sizable hand in creating prints for the designer’s collections every season.) The celestial theme is portrayed through an illustrated dreamscape of winged mythical creatures in flight, sinuous tendrils, and sun-like hot air balloons, all inspired by the cover image of The Smashing Pumpkins’ 1995 album “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness.” This celestial theme seems to coax out a newfound playfulness — some of the looks teetered on the border of whimsical. In a good way. 

Technical fabrics have always been a driving force in Rolf Ekroth’s collections (more so in the past than his latest outings). This season, he’s experimenting with inventive fabrics to mix with classics: denim and flannel for a pair of jeans, and shearling and corduroy for a bomber jacket. There’s also boiled wool, cotton, padded nylon, and technical fabrics aplenty. “When I go fabric shopping, I go a bit overboard,” Rolf admits. Though he typically reigns himself in, trimming down his selections to a reasonable number, for this collection, he allowed himself more space to explore. “There was this feeling that might be my last one,” he says. “So I sort of said, ‘Fuck it. Let’s do this.’” 

Throughout, Rolf also revisits many familiar elements: scarf collars, rose prints, and miniature pendants, created by his mother once again. This time, she tried her hand at bead weaving. “I think she was tired of knotting,” he says. “But then she chose an even more difficult thing.” (Her handiwork is impeccable.)

Rolf has also taken a showpiece from the previous season — a pair of jeans that featured 250 handmade fuzzy dandelion pendants — and made it more wearable by pulling out the flowers in one look and leaving just a column of black dandelions in another. “I wanted to kill that collection,” he says with a chuckle. “So, these are dead flowers.” The wilted blooms might seem at first like a self-deprecating shot at his own collection, but the underlying mindset is that of liberating frankness. I always appreciate Rolf’s capacity to criticize his former work in a way that feels so benevolent. I admire how he plows ahead, knocking down all roadblocks (internal or otherwise), and puts it all right back into the creative process. Not many of us can do the same. 

On the leftIt’s not the lighting technicians controlling the flashlights on the models — it’s the volunteers. “We had young volunteers,” Rolf says. “I saw their faces when they realized that they would have to do the lights — the small panic.” Even with only two practice runs, they excel.

The designer compares the struggle to video games — to navigating the same well-trodden journey and reaching the same terminus. To playing and replaying. To trying again and again. (He has subtly referenced video games in past seasons, too.) A few models step out with the words “Maria Loppu” emblazoned across the front. “Maria” is one of the possible unfavorable endings in action-adventure game Silent Hill 2 — something Rolf played extensively over the past year. “Loppu” translates to “ending” in Finnish. “The ‘Maria’ ending is a bad ending, and it basically means that you don’t learn anything, and you repeat the cycle again,” Rolf tells me. “That’s very reflective of what I feel fashion is for me.”

“Go Baby!” is spelled out on a hoodie. “No Distance Left to Run,” reads another in an 8-bit font, after British rock band Blur’s heartwrenching ballad of the same title. “It’s over. You don’t need to tell me,” lead singer Damon Albarn’s wistful voice breaks through the guitar as the models walk their final lap. “I got no distance left to run.” 

There’s no ignoring the lyrics, which are alloyed with a certain kind of sadness. It’s one that’s understood by so many creatives who go through the joy, challenge, pain, and chaos of doing something truly great — and worthy of the kind of thunderous applause that comes at the end of Rolf’s show. “[It feels like] all the obstacles are too high, and I don’t have anything more to give,” Rolf tells me. “But call me in two weeks, and I’m going to be ready again — super excited with a new idea.”